happen! I was thinking of
clothes... I am quite well-off for evenings, and I can manage for
afternoons, but I do think I ought to indulge in one or two `drastic
bargains' for morning wear. I saw some particularly drastic specimens
in Knightsbridge this week. Cecil ... could you--I hate asking, but
_could_ you pay me back?"

Cecil's stare of amazement was almost comical under the circumstances.

"My--good--girl! I was really pondering whether I dare, I'm horribly
hard up, and that's the truth. I've had calls..."

"Not Major Carew again? I can't understand it, Cecil. You know I
inquired about him, you told me to ask if I had a chance, and his father
_is_ rich. He might fly into a rage if he were asked for money, but he
would give it in the end. Major Carew might have a bad half-hour, but
what is that compared with borrowing from you! And from a man's point
of view it's so little, such very small sums!" She caught a change of
expression on the other's face, and leapt at its meaning. "Cecil! You
have been giving more! Your savings!"

"And if I have, Claire Gifford, what business is it of yours? What was
I saving for? To provide for my old age, wasn't it? and now that the
need has gone, why shouldn't I lend it, if I chose? Frank happens to be
hard up for a few months, and besides, there's a reason! ... We are
getting tired of waiting... You must never, never breathe a word to a
soul, but he wants me ... he thinks it might be better..."

Claire stared with wide eyes, Cecil frowned, and finished the sentence
in reckless tones--

"We shall probably get married this autumn, and tell his father
afterwards."

"Oh, Cecil, no! Don't do it! It's madness. It's folly. He ought not
to ask you. It will make things fifty times more difficult."

"It would make things _sure_!" Mary Rhodes said.

The words were such an unconscious revelation of her inner attitude
towards her lover, that Claire was smitten with a very passion of pity.
She stretched out her hand, and cried ardently. "Cecil, I am thinking
of your happiness: I long for you to be sure, but a private marriage is
an insult to a girl. It puts her into a wrong position, and no man has
the right to suggest it. Where is your pride?"

"Oh, my dear," interrupted Cecil wearily, "I'm past worrying about
pride. I'm thirty-three, and look older, and feel sixty at the least.
I'm tired out in body and soul. I'm sick of this empty life. I want a
home